


Icebreaker

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Series: Dark Approach [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Epilogue, M/M, Mani-Pedis for Everyone, Steve Has Issues, Steve and Bucky Just Want to be Warm, Tropical Vacation, idyll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3176516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky had told Steve he loved him with a bullet in a target’s brain more times than he could count. But he knew that Steve still needed to hear the words sometimes, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icebreaker

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [破冰者（Translation of Icebreaker)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702133) by [polarbonnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/polarbonnie/pseuds/polarbonnie)



> I promised an idyllic epilogue to Dark Approach a few months ago, but I had to put it aside unfinished for other projects; sorry it took so long. This references a number of things in that story, but a lot of it can stand on its own, I think.

Tony surveyed the wreckage that had once been three city blocks of downtown Boston and looked at Steve and Bucky with weary eyes. The destruction was a little too close to a number of major Freedom Trail tourist hotspots, but somehow Bucky expected Tony to be happy, since they’d finally--finally!--nailed the asshole who was building giant robot spider things and sending them to demolish major metropolitan centers all along the eastern seaboard. 

“That’s it,” Tony said, slapping Steve on the shoulder as Steve gazed at the smoking wreckage and blinked. Where Tony seemed tired, Steve looked positively done in, and Bucky frowned as he watched him. “Seriously. That does it. I officially declare vacation time. Somewhere warm” --he scowled at the snow piled up here and there, some of the heaps as big as a Volkswagen Beetle-- “and tropical and we can have sex on the beach--not the cocktail, but actual sex on an actual beach where sand gets in all the wrong places.” 

No one else would notice it, Steve’s creased, worn face, the earthward tilt of his shoulders. The fact that he hadn’t even brightened at the prospect of some R&R. It nagged at Bucky, but he decided to let go of it the way Bruce had taught him to acknowledge thoughts that intruded on meditation, then move past them, and Bucky was rewarded with Steve’s sweet smile. Bucky smiled back and winked. Christ almighty, but he loved his fella.

Tony drummed his fingers on the side of his helmet. “Hey, Pep, can you buy out that place on the island where we went that time?” 

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific,” Pepper’s voice, calm and tolerant as always, floated into their ears.

“In Hawaii. That small island no one goes to. Rent out as much of the resort as you can, the one with the great spa. Penthouse suites for everyone.”

She sighed. “One of these days you really ought to buy your own island. But I’ll do my best.”

“No one’s best is better,” Tony said, and glanced at Bucky. “I swear to god, I’m hiring a cleanup team when we get back. What did you do when you were Winter Killing, leaving a trail of bodies as you went? Acid bath? Hire a guy who looks like Jean Reno? Something like that?”

“Had a cleanup team,” Bucky said, shrugging, and grinned. 

“I don’t care if they sit around goldbricking in the break room for ninety percent of their salaried time and draw penises on my official headshot. I hate the cleanup part.”

“That’s because you like to start stuff,” Steve said, pulling his gloves back on and locking his shield behind his back. “But you hate to actually finish it.”

“But I’m really _good_ at starting stuff,” Tony whined as he followed Steve over to the center of the carnage, where Barton and Romanov were already digging in. 

“I’m absolutely certain you believe that,” Steve muttered, and Bucky watched them walk away. He might have been wiped out, but Steve still looked _so fucking good_. Bucky recalled that phrase again that people used when they posted ass shots of Steve on the Internet: I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave.

 

As it turned out, the vacation was perfectly timed. Steve had been having nightmares more often lately, nearly flinging Bucky out of bed on more than a few occasions. Being Steve, he’d tried to act as if everything was okay and there was nothing to worry about, because he believed his reticence protected Bucky. But Bucky had watched him twitching at night, heard the soft pleas escaping his mouth, saw the hands clutching at something only Steve could see. He wondered if, now that Steve no longer had to worry about Bucky so much, everything he’d pushed away for so long wasn’t seeping back in. 

It took Bucky back to the time he’d been shot during the war, the moment he’d realized how close he was to losing his shit out in the field. Steve had nearly lost his mind when he’d seen Bucky go down, but underneath the pain, Bucky had been mildly fascinated by the concussive heat as the bullet sliced through the meat of his shoulder, wondering what it would be like if it was more than a graze, wondering if the next time he’d be deader than a doornail or just invalided out. That was when the conviction he would die in the field had begun squirming around in his brain, his overwhelming fear that he would leave Stevie alone out there.

And he remembered standing in that barn in Holland, finally talking about it in their oblique way, Steve telling him, so earnest and fearful, that Bucky was battle fatigued and how helpless Steve was to do anything about it. Bucky had wanted to believe then that there was a way out, a future for them both if he could hang on long enough. Maybe now, he thought, Steve was in that same spot, holding on to some battle-fatigued anxiety about how long he could stay here for Bucky.

Still, the promise of relaxing and being warm seemed to perk him up, and now Steve and Bucky were contentedly sprawled out on one of the couches in Stark’s private jet with the rest of the team. Even in the few hours they’d been in the air, Bucky could see some of the cracks smoothing out, the sharp edges and corners Steve could get when he was in his head too much being filed down. 

Thor had opted to take the plane so he could travel with his beloved Jane; Banner had initially refused to fly but eventually relented in the face of Tony’s wheedling, and he and Tony were in deep conversation with Jane about physics or high-level math or something else Bucky didn’t give a shit about. Steve was occupied sketching Tony and Bruce as they fanboyed all over Jane, because, as he’d said quietly to Bucky, “I have never seen anything this hilarious. They’re almost peeing their pants.”

They were both happily watching the show when Pepper came over and sat down next to Bucky. “I asked the pilot to bring us lower when we got over L.A.,” she said, and put her hand on his arm. “I wanted to show you the new Malibu house from the air. I know how much you liked Southern California.”

He was stunned that she remembered that, a meaningless statement made when he’d still been little more than an animal. He smiled at her and they leaned toward the window to look out. “It’s about seventy percent complete. Shouldn’t be long now. When it’s done I hope you’ll come out and stay for a bit.” As she spoke he watched her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled and how easy she always was around him, and it was like a spike to the chest, this realization once more that he was no longer a silent ghost but someone worthy of being heard.

“I’d like that,” he said softly, and Steve tilted his head to the side, watching them, pleased. Steve still looked at Bucky as if he’d just won the Irish Sweepstake, and Bucky suddenly wondered how big the lavatories were on this plane and if both of them could fit in there together. He’d swear Pepper had read his mind, because she waggled her eyebrows and patted his arm before heading up to the front of the plane. 

“I didn’t know you liked California,” Steve said. 

“Well, you know, I’m such a laid-back guy, I fit right in,” Bucky said, and Steve grinned. Christ, all these years and he still couldn’t get over the fact that that brighter-than-heaven smile was for him. “It was a good place for me to land for a while, back then. And I liked being warm.”

Steve nodded and returned his eyes to the paper, and when he thought Bucky was no longer watching--though of course he _was_ , because he was always watching Steve--his face took on a cast Bucky hadn’t seen in a long time. Like when he was struggling at the bottom of an illness, a grinding, slow acceptance it wouldn’t get better and he might as well just give himself up to dying. He briefly considered building Steve a blanket fort at the hotel, just the way he had when they were young and he’d seen that look on Steve’s face. He didn’t know if it would be effective against battle fatigue, but he’d be happy to try.

Bucky turned to Sam, hoping to ask him about it because Steve still confided in Sam about those sorts of things, but Sam was busy getting his ass kicked in a video game by both Barton and Romanov, poor guy. Instead Bucky called over to Stark, “Hey, this swanky new home you’re building. Got room for the rest of us?”

“What, because luxury Park Avenue accommodations free of charge isn’t to your discerning tastes anymore?” Tony asked. “Maybe you’d prefer a villa on Lake Como next to Clooney or something. Whatever I can do.”

Bucky smirked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a Brooklyn boy born and bred, there’s no place like home, whatever. Surely there have to be cataclysmic events on the West Coast.”

“Oh, there are,” Pepper called from the galley, “and they’ve all been precipitated by Tony.”

“It was really only one time. Let it go, honey.”

Bucky sighed. “I just don’t see why we can’t have Avengers headquarters in someplace that’s fuckin’ warm, is all. Or where the air isn’t so thick in summer you could slice it with a butter knife. ”

Tony shook his head. “I keep forgetting I’m dealing with nonagenarians. The rest of your age cohort are sunbirding in Florida or Arizona or one of the other crazy-people states. When we get back I promise I’ll buy you some cardigans and turn the heat up in the building.”

Everyone laughed, even Thor, for whom half those references must have meant nothing. Bucky fixed Stark with The Look, the one he reserved for making people squirm--he could still deliver a dead-eyed assassin stare like nobody’s business and he especially enjoyed employing it on Stark. Tony tried his best to glare back, but it didn’t work, and he frowned and kind of visibly drew back.

“Spend seventy fuckin’ years with freezer burn and then you can flap your jaw,” Bucky said. Then he smiled and Stark flinched. “I’m just saying, moving us to the Golden State part of the year might not be so bad. Who’s with me?” Sam raised his hand fast, as did Natasha and Clint, and after a few seconds, Banner. 

“What?” Bruce asked when Tony gave him his best betrayed look. “It’s pleasant. I like palm trees.”

“It’s in permanent _drought_ ,” Tony said to him. “The traffic would make you hulk out in a heartbeat. You’d gripe endlessly about how shallow people are, because they are spectacularly shallow in a way that is unmatched by any place on earth.”

Pepper came in pushing a trolley cart of booze, followed by one of the plane’s staff with a trolley cart of food. “What Tony hasn’t told you is that he is, in fact, building a much larger place with enough room for everyone.” She turned her smile to Jane and Thor, and then Sam, making sure they knew that “everyone” included them. 

Steve beamed up at her, putting down his sketchbook and stretching, then going to help Pepper and the attendant make drinks and lay out the food. Sometimes when Bucky watched Steve with Pepper, it was like he could blink and he’d see little Steve with his ma; there was the same kind of regard in his face when he looked at her, the same twinkle in his eye. Steve had adored his mother, worshipped her in a way Bucky had never done with his own mother, and Bucky found it comforting that Steve had that kind of relationship with a woman again, someone he could feel close to in a way that was different from his relationships with the team. 

Steve hesitated as he poured a drink, staring at the middle of the plane’s lounge area, his eyebrows doing that thing Bucky loved where they practically went straight up his forehead. “Why is there a pole there?” Steve asked, as everyone erupted into laughter. 

 

Back in the war, Steve and Bucky had seen more than their fair share of photos and film of Hawaii, and eventually as the war progressed, the entire Pacific theatre. But that had been mostly black and white, mostly about battles, and had in no way prepared Bucky for how spectacularly beautiful it was. And warm. So very, very warm--even the rain that had been misting down when they landed was warm. He remembered, in some part of the back of his brain, being on ops in Central Africa and India and Vietnam, a very uncomfortable, oppressive heat he couldn’t wait to be out of, even though that meant returning to his cryochamber. 

This, however, was lovely, the trade winds blowing lightly and keeping things comfortable, palms swaying in the breeze. Mild, livable. Within the first ten minutes Bucky decided he never wanted to leave. Apparently that happened a lot. He and Steve could just explore until they ran out of things to explore. The fact that it was the most isolated population center in the world would be an added benefit, since that meant Steve wouldn’t be as tempted to run off to save the world.

At the tiny little airport they all piled into their waiting Hummers and headed to the resort. Bucky watched Steve as he stared out the window at the strange, almost lunar landscape that looked nothing like the lush tropical scenery they’d expected. He seemed...enraptured, the way he often had been in Europe during the war, when the reality of a place overlapped with what he’d read about it, like onionskin tracings placed over their pictures. His shoulder muscles unbunched, some of the creases in his forehead smoothed out, and Bucky could see him _breathe_ in a way he hadn’t for a long time. 

It had taken everything in Bucky not to break up the monotony of their long flight by hauling Steve into the lavatory and banging him into weak, quivery jelly, so as soon as the resort staff had shown them to their individual suites, Bucky grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt and hauled him toward the bedroom. Steve was always most open and candid in the afterglow of really good sex, and Bucky wanted to know what was going on in his brain lately. “Wait,” Steve said breathlessly against a fiery kiss, “the guy’s coming with our luggage in a minute.”

“Leave the door open and a tip on the table,” Bucky growled, and pulled Steve’s wallet out of his pants. 

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, lips shiny with spit, and quickly threw some bills on the table as they kissed their way to the bedroom and Bucky kicked the door closed. He was fairly certain it wouldn’t be the first time the bell staff had heard moans and shouts of ecstasy when they arrived with suitcases, but Steve was funny that way, he hated to make anyone uncomfortable. Bucky quickly opened the windows and sliding glass door to the spectacular ocean view and slowly banking sun, the sweet, sharp scent of the plumeria at the railing of the lanai, and when he turned back Steve was on the bed, already naked, grinning at him. 

“Someone’s frisky,” Bucky said, and threw himself on top of Steve. This was good, Bucky thought, this was very good, seeing Steve so relaxed and so eager. 

“You complaining?” Steve asked, tearing Bucky’s shirt off as fast as he could. He licked around the edge of Steve’s ear, stuck his tongue inside, and Steve sighed so deeply Bucky was practically lifted off his chest.

“Never,” Bucky said, and let himself sink into Steve’s embrace, the soft breeze ghosting over his skin along with Steve’s loving hands. “God, _never_.” They were in paradise, they really were, wrapped in heat and beauty and each other, and Steve deserved this, he deserved it _so much_ that Bucky felt like his chest would rip open with the need to take all those burdens off his shoulders. “I am gonna love you so good, Stevie,” he said and kissed his way down Steve’s neck as he wrapped his strong arms around Bucky’s back.

No matter how long they were together, he would never get tired of this--touching Steve in all the places that made him sigh and moan and whimper, the heat and taste of his skin, the pure honesty of how he opened himself to Bucky body and soul. Bucky’s pleasure was in Steve’s pleasure, watching his face change with everything he experienced, the sweet surprised look he always had when he climaxed. Maybe someday it would grow familiar, rote, but that seemed impossible when he looked at Steve like this, lost in his joy.

Afterward they lay across the bed, Bucky with his head down near Steve’s feet and Steve in the opposite direction, while Steve drew lazy circles on Bucky’s thigh and Bucky caressed his knee. “You have legs for days,” Steve murmured, “they’re so fuckin’ long and gorgeous,” and Bucky chuckled quietly, leaning over and planting a kiss on Steve’s calf. That was the only time anymore these days when the Brooklyn came out in Steve, when he was unguarded and only half awake, not a smooth public figure. He wanted to ask Steve about what was eating him lately, why he was so exhausted and couldn’t sleep without nightmares, but this was not the time, Bucky decided, and let him fall into sleep. 

He went out to the living room, where there were at least five baskets of food and drinks, as well as a tray of huge, luscious chocolate-dipped strawberries with little pearlescent dots on them--he left four for Steve but ate the other four in quick succession, they were so damn good. Bucky examined the table for its sturdiness--he was gonna get Steve on his back with his knees up to his shoulders, bury himself to the balls in Steve’s ass, and feed him those glorious strawberries by hand while he fucked him senseless as soon as he was awake.

Once he saw all this stuff and really looked at the room, Steve would no doubt flap his arms and grumble about the excess and waste, as if he didn’t deserve to be pampered and lavished with a little luxury from time to time. As if sacrificing his life to save the world didn’t merit him some excessive indulgence. He couldn’t see the difference between himself and what Stark used to be (and sometimes still was, especially when Tony was outside the pragmatic influence of Pepper Potts) or what the fat cats that Steve hated so much were now: Steve was never going to buy himself sundaes covered in edible gold leaf or hire flight attendants who pole-danced for him on his airplane. Bucky smiled to himself, thinking about the lemony pucker Steve got once the pole on Stark’s jet had been explained to him. Mostly Bucky shared Steve’s disdain for that kind of lifestyle--mostly--but the two of them had survived their own near-literal hells and Bucky was going to see Steve indulged if it killed him.

Bucky flipped through the list of resort services. Sam and Natasha had been plotting their spa strategies before they even got off the plane; Barton and Jane and Thor had been excited about snorkeling; and Stark was already setting up surfing lessons for anyone who wanted them, so they could join him and Pepper out on the waves. Somewhere along the line, Bucky’s handlers had implanted diving knowledge even though he could not remember ever having a water-based op, so he was looking forward to both snorkeling and diving, although that huge pool they’d seen when they’d arrived looked pretty inviting, too. He took Nat’s advice and booked Steve and himself a massage, even if he’d probably have to grab Steve by the ear and drag him down there. Bucky’d fallen in love with massages once Pepper and Bruce had convinced him, after months of effort, to give them a try-- although the poor therapist had nearly wept when she saw his left side--but Steve had steadfastly refused them, something about being “too relaxed.”

Bucky was standing at the window, staring out at the ocean and munching on pineapple, when he heard Steve whimpering from the bedroom. Oh, fuck. So much for Steve chilling in paradise. Bucky crawled onto the bed next to Steve, speaking softly. “Shhh, Steve, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay, shhh.” He opened his eyes when Bucky lay down next to him, startling a little and blinking back what Bucky could see were unshed tears.

“Buck,” he said softly, almost confused, and he didn’t seem to know where he was at first. 

“You’ve been having a lot of bad dreams lately.” Sam had taught him to say things like that flat, calm, without judgment. Never frame things as a question, because Steve was less likely to respond to questions.

“Mm.” Steve let Bucky pull him close and rest his head on his chest. The sun was getting low in the sky now, and though they were facing more south than west, he could see the orange and pink of the coming sunset softly glowing to the right of the window. They’d need to head down to the restaurant for dinner soon, all dressed up under strict orders from Pepper. 

“Me again. The train.” Bucky stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. 

Steve didn’t respond. 

Bucky had told Steve he loved him with a bullet in a target’s brain more times than he could count. But he knew that Steve still needed to hear the words sometimes, too. “You know I love you and I’m not gonna leave you alone again, not if I got anything to say about it. You don’t always have to be the strong one, Steve. I got your back.”

He planted a kiss on Bucky’s chest above his heart and got up. Bucky sighed. Steve stepped inside the bathroom and whistled. “This is nice. That shower’s huge. Perfect for fucking.” He turned and smiled wickedly. “Think we can christen every surface in this place before dinner?”

Bucky grinned at him despite his exasperation. “Or die tryin’.”

 

There were a thousand things to do, even on such a small island. He and Steve had ventured off to see petroglyphs, tried poke and saimin in town, hiked along a cliff trail, and gone over to Maui on the boat Tony’d chartered. They’d paired off with others on the team, playing musical chairs as they found someone else who wanted to do the exact same thing they did--although Thor was everybody’s pal, eager to try pretty much everything, including golf up at the mountain resort’s course. Every day ended in dinner together, whether they made it themselves or went to the restaurants at the hotels.

The first day Bucky took Steve down to the spa, he’d grumbled the whole way there, but when they’d met up outside at the pool, Steve had such a dazed, blissed-out look that Bucky briefly wondered if he’d been fucking someone instead of getting massaged. “That was _amazing_ ,” he’d said, a grin splitting his face, as if he’d discovered the secret to the universe, and maybe he had. “It was a goddamn life-changing experience.” 

Bucky’d been nearly doubled over laughing at Steve when Sam had come up, clapping Steve on the shoulder, and said, “Wait till you try the ti leaf body treatment. You’ll never be the same.” 

Steve had rolled his head around on his shoulders and looked longingly at Bucky. “Can we book one of those?”

“Wait till you’re sunburned, white boy,” Sam had smirked. “You’ll need it even more then.”

“Mani-pedis tomorrow for everyone, attendance mandatory,” Nat said, wandering past them toward the pool. 

Steve smiled at her, looking down at her hip, and said, “Yeah, you look terrible.”

“Steve!” Sam shouted, “what the hell, man?” but she smirked and said, “Private joke.” 

Steve just shrugged at Sam and Bucky’s scowls. Nat gave Bucky a funny look and put her hand over her scar, her eyes roaming to his t-shirt, telling him in her knowing way that it was okay--their bodies wore their histories, showed what had made them who they were. She’d forgiven him that particular tale long ago.

The thought of exposing so much of himself, his own history that he was still struggling to come to terms with, had given him some panic that first morning. Even though they’d booked as much space around themselves in their penthouse suites as they could and it was the ass-end of January, there were still other people here and Bucky was pretty sure they weren’t ready for a metal-armed guy with horror-movie scars. Most of the guests had recognized who was in their midst fairly fast, but that was a level of exposure he didn’t know if he was prepared for. 

Lying down with a dreamy, massage-relaxed Steve on a canopied lounge bed, though, he’d been emboldened to take off his t-shirt, even swam in the pool for a little while with Steve and Nat, and no one ran for cover. 

It got easier for Bucky then, and he stopped thinking of how he looked for the most part, even when the arm was probably blinding people as he snorkeled in the bay or walked shirtless on the beach. He was buoyant and relaxed in the ocean, watching the colorful undersea world, so unconcerned with the human beings around them. He wanted desperately to share this with Steve, to watch his face as he took in the turtles and the brilliant rainbow of fish and the coral, imprinting it all in his mind so he could draw it later.

But the one thing Steve had absolutely refused to do was set foot in the ocean. Each time Bucky tried to coax him, he shrank away, insisting he was having a fine time watching everyone from the beach and sipping his tropical drink. At night, after Steve was wiped out from sex, Bucky would try to tease the reasons for his reluctance out of him, but Steve wouldn’t budge.

By the fourth day, Bucky just gave up trying to get Steve into the ocean or explain why he wouldn’t, and taken Thor with him to go spearfishing farther up the island. He’d laughed at Pepper’s scowl during breakfast--“Why do you feel the need to kill harmless aquatic creatures who’ve never done anything except offer the world beauty?”--but had pointed out that if they caught anything, she’d be enjoying dinner too much to complain. Thor actually tried physically forcing Steve to come with them by picking him up in his giant, tanned arms, one of the few holds Steve had trouble breaking, but even he had no luck and Steve stayed behind.

Thor appeared every bit the god he was when you put him near water--Bucky had watched in awe as he strode glistening out of the waves like some kind of classical sculpture come to life, carrying a string of fish, water dripping from the long blond hair splayed across his huge chest. It struck Bucky again, deep inside his brain where it twisted and sparked, that he _knew_ these people, that they were part of his life. _His life_ , all his own, and he would never be controlled by anyone again. All simply because Steve could never give up on Bucky or let him go. 

While they were putting their catch away, Thor sat down beside him and said, “Something troubles you, Sergeant. Something troubles my friend the Captain as well, I think, although you’ve both appeared happier than I have ever seen you these past few days.”

“Thor, I keep telling you that you gotta stop calling me sergeant. I haven’t been a sergeant for seventy years, and if it wasn’t for Steve and an army of Stark Industries lawyers, I’d be buried in a black-site prison for treason and so many counts of murder they’d have to bind it like a book. I know Bucky’s a goddamn stupid name, but if you can’t handle that, then James will do.”

Thor grinned at him. “I promise you I will try. Midgardians appear for the most part to dislike honorifics and titles, but they are very important where I come from. Respect for a warrior such as yourself is...” He waved his hand back and forth. “It is one of my failings here on earth. Jane informs me of it all the time.”

“I doubt she thinks it’s a failing. That’s what’s nice about her, though. Most people with her degrees would be highfalutin, trying to make you call them doctor, but she doesn’t. She’s regular people.”

That seemed to please Thor immensely, and he patted Bucky’s real arm. “James. What is it that worries you two? Especially while we relax in a place like this, where you should put aside your cares and enjoy the drinks with tiny umbrellas in them.”

“Don’t know, to be honest. Steve’s just...he’s been having nightmares lately, more than he used to. And since we’ve been here, I can’t get him to go in the water. Like he’s afraid of it, and I’ve never known him to be afraid of anything. He wasn’t even afraid of me, when he shoulda been.”

Thor looked out at the water and chewed his lower lip. “He was troubled when we first met. I did not know it then, but he had been awake only a few short weeks. And I didn’t show him the care I should have once we became friends, after the Battle of New York, for I was too immersed in my own suffering to comprehend his. But he changed so much when you returned to him, we saw his true heart even more. Now that you are better, I wonder if he does not find the things he pushed away, those wounds he ignored, haunt him more because he has nothing to favor in place of them.”

Bucky shook his head. He supposed you didn’t get to be thousands of years old without earning a little wisdom, not after everything Thor had been through. It was good to have someone confirm Bucky’s theories.

“The ice.” 

“Perhaps. Or perhaps something else we know not of. It is difficult to get him to talk about himself.” 

“That’s an understatement.” 

Thor laughed and clapped him on the back. “Come, we have fish to clean if we’re to prepare dinner for our friends tonight.” The one thing almost no one knew about their Norse god--he was a fucking spectacular cook, and Bucky’s mouth watered just thinking about it.

 

“I just don’t see how you can be all ‘I don’t wanna go in the water’ when you jumped in the freaking Indian Ocean, from a plane, without a parachute. How does that even happen?” Natasha cried and threw her hands in the air. Bucky stared at her in open-mouthed horror, then at Steve.

“You jumped out of a fucking plane without a fucking parachute? Into the water?” He whacked Steve hard on the arm. “You might as well have jumped onto concrete. It’s the same goddamn thing!” He couldn’t believe that seventy years into the future he was still trying to tamp down the urge to beat the shit out of Steve. “Jump on a grenade, sure, why not. Throw yourself out of a plane into anti-aircraft flak, sure, why not. Jump out of a plane with no parachute, sure, why not. But god forbid you stick your big toe into the bay.”

“He jumped on a grenade,” Bruce said flatly, eyes wide with shock.

Bucky turned to Bruce. “I know, right? And that was before the serum.”

“It wasn’t as bad as she said!” Steve protested, and glared at Bucky. “And it was a mission, so I didn’t mind. Missions are different. I just don’t feel the need to get back in the ocean if it’s not a mission.” He glared at Nat, too. She rolled her eyes so hard Bucky thought they might fly out of her head. “There are sharks and things. And if something goes wrong, help is...thousands of miles away, _if_ you’re lucky enough to be found. The ocean is vast and empty and dark and cold and sinister.”

“Don’t even try to tell me Captain America is afraid of sharks,” Barton said, quirking an eyebrow.

“Hey! One of the first movies I saw out of the ice was _Jaws_. I was fucking traumatized.”

“There are really interesting new designs in wet suits that confuse or deter sharks,” Jane offered. 

“You could punch them out,” Natasha said. 

“But not before they’d chomp off a limb or something. And I might be a supersoldier, but I can’t regrow a lost l--” His face fell. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Buck, I’m so sorry. I would never--I mean, I don’t think--”

“No, really, keep talkin’, soldier boy,” Bucky said. “It’s fun watching you dig yourself into the hole.” Steve pursed his pretty little mouth, staring down at the table. Everyone quickly moved on to other conversations, so Steve sat there, the red slowly fading from his cheeks, fidgeting.

“It’s just a little bay here, warm water, no ice,” Bucky said softly and leaned into him. “You can’t get lost. And I won’t ever leave your side.” 

“I’m _fine_. What’s the big deal about swimming? You fuss too much.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” He smiled, though, remembering his feisty little Steve who’d take any dare that came his way, and held Steve’s hand under the table.

After dinner Bucky took Steve aside before he could go off with the rest of the group and said, “I got a surprise for you.”

Steve reared back like a scared horse. “I’m not gonna like this, am I?”

“Have I _ever_ consciously given you a bad surprise? Really?”

Steve pretended to think about it. “Okay. Let’s see it.” He let Bucky lead him to the Hummer and they drove off into the night, the sky above them so thick with stars Bucky felt he could bat them away with his hand. He constantly glanced over at Steve, watching the wind blow through his short spiky hair, the glow of the dashboard reflecting off his handsome face. Every time Bucky thought he couldn’t be more in love with Steve Rogers, something would come along to prove him wrong.

They reached the harbor on the western side of the island, where Bucky took Steve down to a boat he’d chartered earlier that day, after his conversation with Thor. Steve was quiet, but he listened with interest as the skipper told them about the history of the harbor and the island while they sailed out into the darkness. Once they were out on the open water, the skipper killed the engine and went belowdecks, and they stood silent for a while under the starry sky, breathing the salty tang of the air. As the breeze stirred Bucky’s hair in front of his eyes, Steve reached over and pushed it off his face, and Bucky turned to kiss Steve’s palm. 

“What are we doing out here?” Steve asked. “I assume you’re trying to prove a point.”

“Look behind you,” Bucky said, smiling, and Steve turned aft. 

“Holy shit. What _is_ that?” he asked as he went to look over the back of the boat. Behind them glowed a blue-green trail of phosphorescence, lighting up the boat’s wake. Bucky leaned down and ran his arm through the water, and for a moment the glow clung to his skin. Steve did the same, laughing. 

It was the only good memory Bucky had of being the Winter Soldier. He’d been on a ship, somewhere in the Pacific, he didn’t remember where he was headed to or coming from, and like most times when he was let out of cryo for longer than a few days, he’d taken advantage of it, refusing to sleep unless absolutely necessary. He’d stood on deck under the inky sky and watched the shimmering trail fanning out from their wake, rapt. The luminous organisms had conjured up memories of neon lights and a big city, memories he hadn’t known what to do with at the time. 

“How come I never saw this at the Lumerian Star?”

“You mean the time you jumped out of a fuckin’ plane without a fuckin’ chute?” Bucky asked and thumped Steve on the forehead.

“Hey!” Steve shouted, and they sat there, grinning at each other like the besotted idiots they were.

Bucky put his hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissed him. “I’m kinda dim sometimes. I heard about all those risks you took, how sad you were back then, and I didn’t put it all together with you now. There was this space in your head that was taken up by me. And now it’s not, so you’ve been letting yourself go back there too much, trying to crawl out of that wreckage, the water and the ice pouring into that plane. Stuck there in the cold, alone, for seventy years. And just because I’m here and better now doesn’t mean you weren’t fucking depressed for a really long time and winter doesn’t bring back all that cold. And I know that feeling, it’s so deep down in your bones that the only way it can squeeze its way out is through your nightmares. You had a mission in me for so long. You gotta let me have my old mission back--to take care of you.”

“You’ve been listening to Sam lately, haven’t you?” Steve said dryly.

“Yeah, well, he knows what’s what.”

Steve turned back to look at the shimmering blue water, allowing Bucky to wrap his arms around Steve from behind and kiss the side of his neck. “You really know how to woo a fella, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do, bub.” He turned Steve’s face toward him and kissed him long and deep. “Come out of that ice, Stevie. Let me show you what you showed me, that sometimes there’s magic in the world and kindness and love. It ain’t perfect, I know. But let me make you warm.”

Steve dipped his arm in the water again. He gazed up at Bucky in the blue glow and smiled. “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“C’mon,” Bucky said, and started stripping. “Take off your clothes. We’re skinny-dipping.”

“What?” Steve blurted.

“Skipper says we got all night if we want it. He’s staying below. Get in the water.” He finished taking his clothes off and slipped down the ladder into the sea, a little more bracing than it had been by day in the protected confines of the bay. 

At first Steve hesitated, but then he quickly followed suit and slid down the ladder. Christ, he was gorgeous. He recalled Steve, wild in his memories, fierce and courageous and so much stronger than the indifferent world could see. How could they ever have taken away the knowledge of how much he loved this man? 

“But...sharks and stuff,” Steve said with a gasp as he hit the cool water. 

Bucky loved it when Steve gave him shit, but he splashed him in the face for good measure. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

Bucky laughed and pulled Steve against him. “Just a little swim. Nothing big, not going far from the boat. I’ll punch out any sharks stupid enough to take on Captain freakin’ America and the Winter Soldier.” He pushed back in the water and hooked both his legs around Steve’s waist. “C’mere,” he said, low and throaty. “I ain’t never fucked in the ocean before.”

Steve swished his arm back and forth in the luminescent water and grinned up at Bucky. “If you had, I’d be getting jealous about now.” Steve grabbed his ass and they moved with the waves, riding up and down. 

“You’d never be jealous. You’d just step aside nobly while looking like someone shot your puppy.”

Bucky kissed his lips, salty and briny and so, so warm, and rubbed himself against Steve’s thighs.

“Hey, Buck. Do you think--what would you think about staying here for a while? Not going back with the others, I mean. Take a leave of absence or something. I want to see the other islands, maybe the rest of the Pacific, meet the people and learn about the cultures. Maybe there’s something I can do here, too. Or we could just swim in the ocean and sit in the sun, watch the sunset every night.”

Bucky’d been lucky to have so many people helping him figure it out once he started shedding the Winter Soldier’s skin, but Steve had never had that, had suffered through it all alone. You didn’t get over combat fatigue that quickly, but this was a start. This was Steve’s time now, and Steve was his home, wherever that was.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

 

“But--but he’s the team leader. I let him be the team leader,” Tony whined, when Bucky finished explaining why they weren’t going back with everyone.

“Trust me, Stark, you didn’t _let_ Steve be anything.” Bucky smirked at him.

Pepper reached over and put her hand on Tony’s leg, then squeezed hard enough that her fingers turned white. “Let it go.” 

“I think it’s a splendid idea, James,” Thor said, a huge grin on his face. “It will be just the respite the Captain needs.”

Natasha and Clint were the hardest to read, but he couldn’t imagine either of them begrudging Steve a break. Sam just seemed lost in thought, which didn’t surprise Bucky all that much, since Steve had been the reason Sam got involved with the team in the first place, though he certainly had other reasons to stick around these days. Bruce was making his “this all seems terrible” face, which Bucky had learned was usually him thinking a few steps ahead about the team’s well-being.

But Tony persisted in pouting. “How you gonna keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Tahiti,” he said, resigned. “You’ll never want to come back.”

Bucky sighed. “Listen. Steve’s been fighting his _whole goddamn life_. You people have no idea what it was like for him when he was little. He got a new body so he could fight a war. They woke him up when he thought he’d ended it and expected him to fight all over again. No one ever asked him if he wanted to come back, they never even gave him the chance to say no. He barely had time to cope with this new world before he was fighting for me. The fighting has never stopped for him. So I think the world fuckin’ owes him, you know? Let him live for a while where he’s not just forcing himself to keep marching through, doing things for everyone but himself. The world owes him a break.”

“Bucky’s right,” Sam said quietly.

“Where will you go?” Pepper asked. He could see how much she wanted this for them, how much she understood.

“Stay here till we run out of things to do, then maybe keep going through the Pacific, Fiji and Tahiti and the weird little islands no one goes to. Anywhere it’s warm.” He shook his head at Tony’s sour face. “Look, I know Steve. He was Captain America long before Project Rebirth. He won’t be able to put down that shield for long, it’s just not his way. But if he proves me wrong? I can pick it up. Or Sam. Someone can always be Captain America. Just let Steve be Steve for a while.”

“How long is a while?” Natasha asked, not with any concern behind it, just curiosity.

“Don’t know. But maybe by the time we start working our way back east, the Malibu place will be done and we’ll meet up with you again. If there are any emergencies, you can always have Stark or Rhodes or Thor come fly him back.” He grinned, but Tony just scoffed. “He’ll probably miss the fighting after a while. And I’ll miss watching him fight, because it’s my favorite thing. Or my second favorite after--”

Barton waved his hand. “We don’t need to know what your favorite thing is. We’ve _heard_ you.”

Bucky laughed. “All right. If you’re gonna get your panties in a bunch, do it before dinner, okay? I want everyone to be on board, since it’s our last meal together for a while.”

Tony groaned as Bucky left the suite. He walked down the path to the bay and shielded his eyes, looking for Steve. Bucky recognized the book he’d been reading lying in the sand next to one of the lounge chairs, so he waded out into the water to find him. Steve was in the middle of the bay, floating on his belly, a snorkel tube sticking up out of the water. The tide was in now, so you didn’t get as close to the fish, but with Steve’s super vision, that probably didn’t matter. Bucky swam out and turned over on his back, taking hold of Steve’s hand, letting him pull him along as he made his way through the water. 

After a while, Steve raised his head, pulling the mask up and taking the tube out of his mouth. “They take it okay?”

“Well, some of them are a little...you know. But yeah, I think they’ll be all right.”

“I don’t know if I could have stuck with it, if I’d had to say it to their faces. So thanks.”

“My pleasure.” Bucky put his arms around Steve, treading water together for a little while, kissing each other in between swells. 

“I saw a huge turtle. The spinner dolphins were in the bay when I came down, but we couldn’t go out till they were done resting. You were right, this is fun.”

“Oh, look, the fog’s lifting.”

Steve gave him his best “fuck you” face and glanced at his watch. “I lost track of time. Should I come in?” 

Some of Steve’s freckles were showing in the pink that kissed his cheeks and nose, the slight burn on his arms at the edges of the rashguard. Bucky smiled. Not so long ago, Bucky had warned Steve that he would never be completely okay, never one hundred percent. But all those brittle edges were slowly melting away from Bucky, like ice under the sun, and he felt new again, re-created. 

“Nah. We got all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, [reblogs on Tumblr](http://teatotally.tumblr.com/post/108125195790/icebreaker-7865-words-by-gwyneth-rhys-ao3), likes, or comments would be adored and as spirit-lifting as a tropical vacation.


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